


It’s okay, Angel...

by werewolve



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Character Death, I’m so sorry, M/M, have fun with it though, i cried writing this ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19294627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolve/pseuds/werewolve
Summary: They failed to stop Armageddon. Too many mixups, too much that was out of their hands. The war between Heaven and Hell has raged on for a millennia.





	It’s okay, Angel...

Silence. For any human, if there had been any left, it would have just sounded like silence. Like a barren land filled with nothing but the echo of a pin drop somewhere distant in the back of one’s own mind. 

For the ethereal, the occult, it was a cacophony. 

The sound itself was explosive, loud enough to tear through a persons soul. 

There was a clash of weapons alongside a thunder like rumble of the earth. Whooshes of air as wings clapped against the wind. 

Screams.

So many screams. 

Of determination. Of defeat. Of pain. 

One rang out above them all. 

“GET BACK!” 

The Angel had been behind a rock face, tending to another wounded Angel who’s wing had been broken amongst the chaos. A medic. That’s what they’d made him. Not a fighter, he was too much of a liability to be a fighter, no, a medic. Tend to the wounded, watch the dead. 

Now he’d become distracted, the familiar voice ricocheting off of long forgotten memories. 

“Crowley...”

His voice was soft as he peered across the battlefield, and sure enough, there he was. 

The Demon was a warrior. A fighter for hell. He currently held back an Angel’s sword with his own blade in one hand, the other hand waving off two Demons, one who looked fatally wounded in the other’s arms. 

Apparently, the connection Heaven had severed between Aziraphale and his demonic counterpart was not quite as cut off as they had expected. Because amidst the rabble, Crowley’s name rang within his own thoughts in a voice he had known some time ago. And he instinctively turned to its origin. 

They saw each other for the first time in a thousand years. 

A thousand years since Armageddon had begun and the war started. 

Since Heaven and Hell had forced the suppression of their memory of one another to turn them into war ready men. 

In the moment, everything came flooding back. The bookshop, the park, the plants. 

Feeding ducks, long nights cuddled up on the Demon’s sofa, long days spent exploring small parts of the world. 

The lingering gazes, soft lips, a touch so gentle you felt that you might die with anticipation. 

All of it, all at once, came back to them. 

And Crowley let his guard down. 

There was a laugh by the Angel he had been holding back, and a long thrust forward. 

Crowley collapsed to the ground. 

A sputter of blood escaped his lips. 

“No.” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide, the other Angel content with their work moved on to the next Demon and Aziraphale took off running, “No, Crowley... NO.” 

Within moments Aziraphale had Crowley in his arms, knelt within the sand. He wrapped him in an embrace, tears already streaming down his cheeks, “Crowley, it’s going to be okay, I’ll heal you. It’ll be fine.” 

“It’s okay, Angel, it’s okay.” The Demon’s words were hoarse, fleeting, he pressed a hand to the wound in his side and with the other caressed the Angel’s cheek. Using his thumb to wipe away a tear. 

“No, no absolutely not, not now.” 

“It’s been a while, huh, come here often?” 

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale sobbed against the Demon’s jokes, pressing his cheek against the other’s hand, which he held against his face with his own. “Please, I can’t lose you again. Not so soon. Please.”

“It’s alright, Zira, it’ll just be another long nap.” Crowley gave a weak smile, his lip twitching out of pain, “You’ll be alright Angel, Heaven’ll win, just like you said.” 

“I don’t want us to win!”

“Angel look at me.” Crowley moved slightly so that he was face to face with Aziraphale, “You be good, alright? Make sure you feed the ducks for me.” 

There was a stuttering breath, a cough, Crowley’s eyes seemed to be fighting against his keeping them open. 

“You make sure...” He spoke, but the words were so quiet. Too quiet. “Make sure Michael... Michael knows... I still want that.... the... rubber er...” 

“Crowley you cannot genuinely be thinking about my rubber duck joke right now.” Aziraphale had to smile, through his pain and tears he had to smile at his Demon’s silly jokes. “I love you.” 

Except he didn’t get a reply. 

He felt the thud of the Demon’s head against his chest. 

“I love you.” He choked. Knowing he wouldn’t hear it back, and pulled Crowley against him, pressing his nose into the Demon’s hair. “I love you, I love you.” 

Everything around him went silent. No more war, no more explosions. Just a barren land filled with nothing but the echo of a tear drop somewhere in the sand. 

“I love you.”


End file.
